


A Heartbeat Saved

by RaeXD



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders Needs a Hug, Angst, Forever, Hurt/Comfort, I have no idea how to tag or what I'm doing, Like all the hugs, M/M, Mild Gore, pre-fenders - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 04:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10609275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeXD/pseuds/RaeXD
Summary: The summary is basically, Anders has a really rubbish day and needs a hug. It will be provided by a glowy elf.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so yay, after over a year on this site I have finally scrounged enough confidence and motivation to post something. This is my first time doing anything like this so please don’t hate me if I’ve screwed up. I’ve tried. So there.  
> Anyway, please enjoy and feel free to leave a comment (if criticism, please be constructive) or don’t, I don’t care… why would I care? *grabs blanket and hides behind sofa*

Anders sat in the clinic, the lantern extinguished, the room empty. It had been a hard day. He'd come back from slaver hunting on the wounded coast with Hawke around noon, only to find his clinic swarming with Darktown residence. Chokedamp. The worst case he'd seen since arriving in Kirkwall four years ago.  
  
No matter how many he healed, how much lyrium he downed, how much magic the spirits and Justice could provide him, it wasn't enough. Not for everyone.  
  
Children and the elderly were the most at risk. But as his mana drained, even the stronger adults began to fail under his desperate hands.  
  
Twelve people lost. Choking on the air and their own blood as their damaged lungs failed to heal. Twelve people dead. Twelve families grieving for the loss of a child, a lover, a parent. Twelve people he'd failed.  
  
The Mage ran a shaking hand through sweat drenched hair, trying his best to stifle a sob, to keep his head above the despair clawing at the frayed edges of his mind. There was nothing more he could have done. He saved many with the help of Lirene and some volunteers. But he couldn't save them all.  
  
If only he hadn't gone to the coast with Hawke. He would have had enough magic to save them.  
  
But if he hadn't gone, Fenris would never have made it back to Kirkwall alive. He would have died from massive blood loss, thanks to a slavers last ditch effort for survival. The wild blood magic had torn into the elf's left leg, nicking the artery. The fear in Fenris' eyes when he realised what had happened was all the permission Anders had needed before rushing over and pouring all the healing magic he could into the wound. Stemming the flow of blood, knitting together muscle and skin, whilst purging the last vestiges of blood magic from the warriors system. It had taken a huge chunk of his mana but it was worth it to see the look of gratitude of Fenris' face, even if he didn't verbally acknowledge what Anders had done.  
  
So, there was nothing he could have done. To have remained in Kirkwall, only to hear that Fenris had died from an injury he could have healed... his heart clenched at the thought. After all the progress they had made. Listening to each other instead of shouting to be heard. The more frequent, civil conversations about things not pertaining to Tevinter or mage rights. Cards at that damned wreck of a mansion, with Varric and Donnic. All gone, had he remained in Kirkwall.  
  
'At the cost of twelve lives,' an unhelpful voice in his head sneared. That wasn't how it worked. He knew this. He could not have known that there would have been an outbreak in Darktown, nor could he have known what would happen to Fenris on the coast. But it didn't make it better. If he was stronger, more skilled. If he had tried harder he could have done it. He could have saved them all. That was his job as a healer and he had failed.  
  
Ragged, wailing sobs tore through him. He couldn't do this. He was useless. A failure. He called himself a healer when he couldn't save twelve people. He slid off his chair and curled underneath his desk. He pulled his knees up to his chest and ripped the leather tie out of his hair, as he gripped either side of his head, knuckles on boney fingers pressing hard into his temples.  
  
He did not know how long he spent like this - crying alone under his desk. Just waiting for exhaustion to take him away from this dark, sickening despair. But that didn't happen. Not this time, as it had happened many times before.  
  
A hand gently touched his arm, causing him to startle and flail, hitting his head against the top of his desk in the process. He rubbed the back of his head and turned towards the other person in the room. Through tear blurred vision he could make out white hair and eyes gleaming like emeralds in the dim light of the clinic.  
  
"F... Fenris?" He stammered, "what are you d-doing here?" He sounded pathetic and he knew it, but right now he didn't care. He wasn't alone, at least he wouldn't be alone until the elf realised that regardless of what brought him here, he was in over his head and left. Anders wouldn't blame him. If he could walk away from him, he would.  
  
Fenris looked at him, concern etched into his normally stoic face. He reached out with a lyrium marked hand and tucked a few wild strands of hair behind Anders' ear. His hand lingered before dropping it to his lap, "You said you would bring a salve for my leg to the mansion this evening. When you didn't show up, I assumed you were too busy and decided to collect it myself."  
  
"Wait... you walked all the way through Hightown, Lowtown and Darktown on your own, with that leg?!" Anders exclaimed. Regardless of his current state, the healer in him reached forward in order to ensure none of the repairs to the leg had been undone.  
  
"Calm yourself, mage," the elf said, taking hold of Anders thin wrist, gripping it gently. "I used Hawke's cellar entrance to get here. I did not walk far." A small reassuring smile appeared on his face and Anders relaxed a little.  
  
"S-sorry, the clinic was packed from the moment I got back and I... I...," fresh tears began to fall and sobs shook his thin frame as his mind reminded him of the hardships of the day.  
  
Fenris pulled gently at Anders wrist, encouraging him out from under the desk as you would a child. With quiet words and soft hushes the smaller elf drags the weeping mage into strong arms, rubbing soothing circles over his back.  
  
"Hawke told me about the outbreak when I got to the estate," he said quietly. "And while I cannot fathom how it must feel to lose so many. Know that I and the others you were able to save today are eternally grateful." He tilted Anders chin up to look at him and cupped his face with one battle calloused hand. Big green eyes boring into honey brown, searching them for understanding. "Thank you, Anders. For your healing and my life. Thank you, for all the times you have healed me and those in our group. Thank you, for keeping us strong when we feel as if we may fail and ensuring we get home one piece at the end of the day."  
  
Anders had no words to reply to that. He just stared at Fenris, tears still rolling down his cheeks, unable to completely process what had been said. But he knew it was good and warm and comforting and he clung onto it - and to Fenris - in the hope that it could chase away the dark thoughts and soothe his battered soul. And Fenris stayed, holding him close, rocking him slightly while whispering soothing nothings into the top of his head. He stayed until Anders tears dried and the shaking subsided. He pulled away slightly to talk to the mage. "You need food and rest. I will remain here if that is what you choose or if you feel I have over stepped my bounds in being here I will take my leave." While there was firmness in his voice it didn't match the uncertainty in his face. It wasn't right. Fenris wasn't uncertain. He always knew what he was doing. He always had his head on straight while Anders' was all over the place.  
  
His internal deliberation must have taken too long because Fenris' expression went from uncertain to sad, "I will leave you to your thoughts then," he whispered, turning to stand and go.  
  
"NO!" Anders cried, probably a little too loudly from Fenris' full body flinch. "I-I-I mean... p-please stay. I'd like you to stay... here... with me. But only if that's what you want. I don't want to burden you with this."  
  
"It is my choice Anders, and of no burden to me," there was a warm smile in his voice to match the small one curving his lips. He held out his hand and Anders took it, letting the warrior pull him to his feet and lead him to the little back room he used for himself.  
  
Anders didn't have much in the way of food but they made do. He gave Fenris the salve and told him how to use it. He cried a little more and he suspected for the next day or so this would be a regular occurrence. But it was ok, because he wasn't alone. He had Fenris holding him through the tears and after them. Anders drifted to sleep enveloped in the warmth of the elf's arms and the sound of his heartbeat in his ear. A heartbeat he had saved. A heartbeat that was right here, the steady beats a proof of life. A heartbeat that a small, hopeful, if deluded part of him wished to hear on many more nights after this one.

**Author's Note:**

> *peeks out from behind sofa* Thank you for reading to the end. I hope you liked it :)


End file.
